


Potpourri

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Marriage, Ministry of Magic, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: Hermione and Draco can't seem to find even five minutes of alone time with each other.





	Potpourri

Draco Malfoy stopped abruptly at the threshold of his office, nearly spilling his tea, and blinked.

A translucent otter was perched atop his desk, looking expectantly at him.

It arched its back as he stroked its silvery-smooth fur.

> _Meet me in the small meeting room down the hall. And be quick:  
>  my next meeting is in twenty minutes_, Hermione’s issued voice   
> instructed.

Draco smirked. Her voice had an edge to it that piqued his lust. He put down his tea, cast a Warming Charm, and headed toward the appointed destination.

He’d not taken ten steps from his office when someone tugged at his shoulder.

“Malfoy, I need your help.”

Draco sighed. Goyle rarely bothered him with MoMA cases anymore, so he had to be desperate. “You go back to your office and I’ll be there soon, Goyle. I just need to send a quick _missive_.”

Having sent Goyle away, he concentrated on a quick message to Hermione and watched only long enough to ensure his glowing snow leopard was headed in the right direction.

> _Hope whatever it is isn’t urgent. Unfortunately, Goyle’s plea is.  
>  See you in the cafeteria after your meeting?_

Hermione huffed and stomped back to her office after listening to the message from Draco’s Mnemon. Greg’s disaster had better not be another bespelled toaster. She took a few deep breaths. To be fair, he _had_ been handling things quite well of late, so his case must be a real quandary. It was a lucky thing that her needs _weren’t_ dire… quite yet.

Hermione left her meeting with a headache and the umpteenth desire to throttle Percival Ignatius Weasley. It was amazing he hadn’t died of complications of intestinal obstruction, the size of the pickle up his arse! She mentally shook herself and recalled her _rendez-vous_ in the caf. She’d just drop off her stack of parchment in her inbox…

“Hermione, what’s the quickest way to mend a Shield Cloak?” 

Hermione turned and saw Seamus sheepishly holding up the tattered remains of what was once a magically-enforced garment that was now a part of the Auror uniform. She raised an eyebrow. The twins had modified the Cloak three times to meet the demands of the Auror department, and Weazies now had exclusive rights to dress all Ministry field agents.

“What did you—never mind, I don’t think I care to know.”

Hermione cast a combination Permanent Sticking and Unbreakable Charms and handed the repaired garb to the gaping Gryffindor. “Don’t expose the Cloak to any fire-related hexes and jinxes or else you’ll never peel it off your body. And bring it to Weazies as soon as possible for the recasting of the more finicky protective spells that must surely have been _Finite_ ’d with the destruction.”

As the grateful Seamus hurried away, Hermione checked her watch and rolled her eyes. There went fifteen minutes of her hour-long lunch break. She’d have to hurry before someone else—

“Madam Granger-Malfoy! What fortuity! I was just on my way to your office.”

Hermione swallowed a sigh. “Hello, Undersecretary Dungworth. Was there something I could help you with?”

“Oh, nothing calamitous, I assure you. But since I’ve found you, I thought we could spend the lunch hour discussing the delegation to Hungary next week. So much to do and never enough time to do it. ( _For his minions, definitely_ , she thought.) Shall we?” He offered his arm.

As they entered the caf, Hermione looked around and spotted Draco at the cashier. She silently cancelled their luncheon with a discreet tilt of her head toward her companion. Draco rolled his eyes and made his way to join Theo and Greg.

After lunch, Draco headed toward his office in the company of another otter, this one perched on his left shoulder. Once seated, he spoke the required utterance spell and was informed to convene in the supplies room.

Hermione and Draco managed to be in the same space at the same time but weren’t able to say a word to one another because, all of a sudden, the entire Ministry was in need of quills and ink and parchment and inane chit-chat.

They managed a quick snog but it only augmented their frustration.

The remainder of their afternoon continued in the same vein: a tryst in his office was interrupted by an owl from Harry and Ron about rampaging giants in the Highlands; a tête-à-tête in _her_ office was negated by fifty Howlers from petty hags objecting to Hermione’s successful implementation of a law to protect Crups from becoming coats (in retaliation, Hermione sent anonymous, tantalizing hints to the _Prophet_ for an excellent undercover exposé of a certain furrier’s Diagon Alley shop); most ridiculous of all, an assignation in the most remote corner of the Ministry’s library was foiled by the collapse of two large shelves of reference books because the concept of gravity was never covered at Hogwarts.

Even their attempt at taking an extended coffee break in Muggle London (to which they were most certainly entitled, the amount of overtime they’d both been putting in of late) proved disastrous. A bomb scare in one of the Underground stations forced an evacuation of the area where their hotel was situated. 

Four o’clock arrived and the disgruntled couple found themselves stuck in yet another dull meeting. Draco started drafting a law in his head that would forbid mandatory Friday afternoon sessions. As Blewitt droned on about quarterly some such or another, he rolled his eyes at Hermione from across the room. She returned the sentiment. 

She was also fidgetting in her seat, her attempts at amusing herself by doodling proving increasingly futile. When the monotonous voice then switched to expectations for the next quarter, Hermione’s sanity snapped. She sent a folded piece of parchment flying toward Draco, not caring about the frowns that trailed in its wake.

> _Cause a diversion. I’m ovulating._

Draco retrieved and enlarged a Weazies Basic Blaze Box from his pocket and let it loose. As the deafening noise and blinding flashes whizzed about the room, he sprang from his seat, closed the distance between them, and snogged her soundly.

With a “pop”, he Apparated them home.

**Author's Note:**

> originally intended for the [Dramione Remix Fest #7](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Dramione_Remix_Round_7) but didn’t meet the minimum word requirement. a sequel of sorts to [Delivered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718867), with elements adapted from [Binary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/746919) and [Pet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719071). yep, i made story chop suey.


End file.
